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The star smells like tangerine.
Soft, small breeze dances against Earn’s skin, where his injured foot rests delicately on Khun’s lap. Kind, sweet hands press warm against the fractured hold of Earn’s presence.
“Hurts?” Khun’s voice is gentle, dark, dark eyes glinting with worry as they fall on Earn’s face.
Earn can’t help the mellow chuckle that slips past his lips as he catches the vivid concern.
The star smells like tangerine, and Earn wonders if his hands would carry the scent if he dared to touch Khun’s skin.
“No,” the answer comes faint; faint, as there’s not much he can say aloud.
Not much but how achingly he wishes he could die right here, beneath the warm fingertips tending to his shattered skin with such careful care.
“Are you cold?” His voice carries the same weakness as he catches the way Khun shivers slightly beneath the soft, humid breeze. His hands though, remain steadily kind on Earn’s wrecked skin.
“Wanna keep me warm?” Khun murmurs, looking up quietly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The star smells like tangerine, and it looks overly pretty.
“I want to.” The weakness vanishes beneath the gentle confession.
Khun’s smile shifts into something bitterly fragile, fingers caressing the skin of Earn’s foot with aching gentleness.
“Can you keep me warm without burning yourself, Earn?” His voice tremors in rhythm with his body, eyes shining with sheer pain as they settle on Earn once more.
Earn’s answer is nonexistent, nearly the same as the exhale that barely escapes his lungs.
Khun shakes his head quietly, gaze slipping away as it falls back onto Earn’s skin.
“What if I want to burn?” The delayed answer comes abruptly, startling enough to freeze Khun mid-motion.
Khun’s eyes catch his again, pupils trembling beneath a thick layer of tears.
“What if I want you to set my entire being on fire?” Earn moves closer carefully, his hand holding the tremble of Khun’s fingers between his own. The star smells like tangerine.
“Would you do that for me, Khun?”
Tears fall heavy down Khun’s face, his hand gripping hard where Earn’s fingers hold him in place.
“Earn.” His name sounds sweet on pretty lips, tangerine-scented as it falls from Khun’s tongue.
It’s a portrayal of desperation; like Khun is begging him to stop before this leaves a permanent burn on both their skins.
As if it already hasn’t.
“I’m the prey.” Earn presses his lips softly against Khun’s wrist as he lifts his hand with quiet reverence.
“Come and haunt me, Khun.” The scent of tangerine burns through his airway as he inhales deeply against Khun’s hand.
A faint sob falls past Khun’s lips as the quiet tremble of his fingers holds Earn’s chin.
Crescent moons holding doe-like softs watching him with gentle adoration.
Gentle, or whatever burning excessiveness Khun disguises beneath weak words.
He does. He does, cause he doesn’t know if he can breathe through the smoky burn if he thinks about why Earn is looking at him like that.
Dirty. Khun’s lips catch Earn’s in a burning mess, licking into his mouth with deliberate filth; deliberate filth, cause that’s who Khun is. Dirty and desperate, and everything Earn should stay far from.
Yet he doesn’t. Yet he doesn’t, and that alone is enough for the filth to intensify.
“Hia.” Khun’s whimper falls against the small mole beneath Earn’s chin. He fights the desire to kiss it. He fights, and fights, and fails miserably as his lips press into a soft kiss against the mole.
Earn hums, hand caressing Khun’s scalp softly.
“Touch me.” Khun’s heart pulses beneath the very skin of his sweaty palms as he takes Earn’s hands, placing one on the soft outline of his cock beneath his loose pants, guiding the other shakily to the front of his chest, where needy nipples sit in anticipation; swollen, and embarrassingly desperate.
Earn’s hands are warm; warm as they clumsily undo Khun’s buttons with one hand, while the other wanders shamelessly over Khun’s boxers, kneading soft balls.
The star smells like tangerine.
Earn desperately draws out an exhale as his eyes catch the perked, fat nipples. The visible bump of Khun’s chest. The evident, unmistakable line of cleavage Earn doesn’t know how it exists on a flat chest.
His lips wrap around a needy nipple, tongue dancing across the slightly bumpy skin with deliberate hunger.
Khun’s quiet whimpers fill Earn’s ears, sweet voice wrecked in a hoarse attempt at silence.
Earn looks up from where he’s leaning against Khun’s chest, lips pulling away from the feeding source for a second.
“You’re full of sorrow, my love.” Awe drips from Earn’s voice as his lips fall heavy against Khun’s heart, the pulse unsteady beneath his skin.
Warm. His breath hitches quietly as he feels the warm flow of urine beneath his palm, right where his hand rests on Khun’s boxers.
And it stops; it stops, and it coaxes Earn’s head up. Eyes holding every tremble-filled tear that slips past Khun’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Khun’s voice comes utterly fragile, hand falling against Earn’s, attempting to pull it away. Yet Earn’s hand stays firm, the other moving from Khun’s chest to the damp jaw that trembles quietly.
“Resume,” he murmurs with a soft smile, kind fingers brushing against fresh, warm tears.
“Let me touch everything that lives inside you.” His hand slides over the now-wet boxers, coaxing the warm fluid to spill freely.
He watches as breath catches in Khun’s lungs, eyes following Earn’s face with palpable desperation.
“What if I die?” It’s stupid. It’s stupid as it leaves the dry of Khun’s lips, but his heart pounds fiercely against every bone in his ribs, and he fears he cannot make it to the next second if Earn keeps looking at him that gently. If he lets Khun do whatever he desires.
“You won’t. I’m here.” Earn reassures, and the reassurance sounds so painfully genuine that makes Khun chuckle hysterically; because, of course, he won’t die as long as Earn is still here. Every breath he takes is tied to every inhale that flows into Earn’s lungs.
Khun’s lips fall against Earn’s once again, as warm urine fills the weak hold of his boxers quietly, liquid dripping against Earn’s fingers as he licks the filth into Khun’s hungry mouth.
The star smells like tangerine.
The air smells like urine.
Earn gently guides Khun’s trembling figure against his chest, hands now wrapped firmly around his small body; one wet, the other not. Both burning with the same cause.
The star smells like tangerine.
Khun closes his eyes, hand clutching Earn’s shirt tightly.
“When is the ceremony tomorrow?”
The star smells like tangerine. The star dies against Earn’s chest.